You have been near two weeks out of the town of Solku, on a long dreary camel caravan to an unknown location in the northern scrublands of Katapesh. You have been traveling with a Man named Garavel, he is the man that hired you. He seems to be a rather no-nonsense major-domo of a merchant princess who awaits you at your destination.

To the west, in the distant haze you can make out the outline of what must be an immense mountain looming over the whole area like a tombstone, you have watched it grow closer in the passing days. Your caravan seems to be getting close to the destination, but your not sure, Garavel is a man of few words. But you look to your fellow travlers, each on his own camel, with two pack camels bringing up the rear.

As the day grows short, Garavel, calls for a night camp. As you all know the drays are hot and the nights are cold so a fire and meal would be nice. Beside as you have also seen the scrublands are not empty after all

"Markhet is quickly becoming disillusioned with the life of an Adventurer," the small gnome whines not for the first time in the last twenty minutes, "Markhet wonders how much longer till she earns her freedom? Markhet thinks she's done an awful lot of work already."

Then the tiny gnome dips her ladle into her water bucket and dumps it over her head. If water didn't evaporate the gnome would be responsible for a soggy trail all the way back to Solku. Despite the fact that she's spent most of the journey obsessively seeing that she and her lion are extremely well hydrated she didn't seem bothered by the heat. Markhet seems to be summoning and dumping water out of boredom more then anything else.

"How far must Markhet travel before she is an adventurer?" The gnome cries, the water splashing part of her routine had been taken care of, "This is drudgery at it's worst Markhet declares!"

Thankfully the complaining was a new routine she'd added only about half an hour ago. Much of it was indirectly directed at Garavel. Her whining started as she and her lion drew near the taskmaster and ended the moment she was out of earshot. At the back of the caravan she would splash about with her bucket and ladle. Then as her lion plodded up toward Garavel her belly aching would start again.

The gnome had been relatively well behaved throughout the trip. She and her lion had zig zagged ahead and behind the caravan. Larrs seemed to like to stalking and hunting as well as chasing birds. Markhet seemed along for the ride, except when she seemed to be pointing out potential pray. Larrs would look in the direction Markhet pointed and then the gnome would cling to the lions as he ran after whatever the gnome had spotted. Before noon Larrs had a pile of dead lizards and snakes the size of Markhet and markhet happily skinned and gutted them before hanging them to dry on the back of one of the pack camels. But then came the hottest part of the day. The hunting dried up and boredom set in. The novelty of traveling had quickly worn off.

"How much further must the poor gnome and her faithful steed . . . " Markhet was in the process of crying when Garavel held up his hand for the caravan to halt, "Oh we're here! That wasn't bad at all, Markhet declares. Let us help build a camp Larrs!"

Markhet quickly hops down off of her lion and begins looking after the other animals.

Celena in extreme contrast to Markhet had spent most of the journey in near complete silence so far not out of any lack of social skills but more because she was praying to saranae for patience in dealing with Markhet.

The complaining gnome has been a constant source of annoyance for Xerzayas the entire journey. Creating water just to waste it, hunting unnecessarily, and know the complaining. He tries to tune her out but finds her voice penetrates his meditations. He is thankful for the call to stop as it will give him something to do to take his mind away from things. As always, Mamood stands quietly close at hand.

Ayish has been walking along with the caravan quietly. The suns heat does not seem to wear upon the slim woman, though since all she wears is silk her skin is free to breath and be cooled by any desert wind. She is more than happy to share the water she has stored in one of the barrels atop her donkey, the other barrel holding the rest of her supplies and gear.

The Gnome's antics also do not seem to affect her, though a slight smile might be noticed, but never in a place where the caravan leader might see.

During the day she is glad to lead her donkey by its reigns, at night she has been happy enough to entertain the rest of the group with her ability to dance and twirl in her silks and sing songs.

On the second evening of the journey Ayish donned a tight fitting halter top of leather and trim leather shorts. She then proceeded to perform a complicated and dangerous looking 'Fire dance'.

Taking two batons, the ends of which she ignites in the fire of the camp, then twirling them in ever more complicated patterns, spinning them into the air and catching them as well as flicking and sliding the flames over her bare arms and legs. At the end of the performance she extinguished the flames by swallowing them.

Vrealk sat near the back of the caravan, hitching a ride on one of the pack camels. After all, he certainly wasn’t given one of his own, and not too many of the others would willingly share theirs with him. He was in fairly good spirits; the heat didn’t really bother him – it was much drier and more comfortable than the hot, humid sewers and basements he typically found himself in – and one of the gnomes further up had thoughtfully provided him some strips of dried lizard and snake to munch on. Such a good friend! She did complain an awful lot, though; Vrealk guessed she didn’t really like the desert. The gnome’s pet, the very big cat she called ‘Lars’, fascinated Vrealk; it didn’t have a scary bark, like dogs, and was almost as good at hunting the small animals as Vrealk himself was.

Most of the time, Vrealk busied himself by checking the supplies, looking for things that weren’t supposed to be there and that might give the bigger folks a surprise when they unpacked: spiders, scorpions, roaches, etc. The spiders and roaches Vrealk skewered with his dagger and tossed to the ground, but the scorpions – now there was a delicacy! Once in a while, he’d take out his small flute and play a few tunes, but that wouldn’t last long. Most of the big folk nearby (and another gnome, much more serious than the first one) would make him stop after only a minute or two. Apparently, this group had no appreciation for music. He decided early on that he wouldn’t do any singing, then, although he often caught himself humming quietly to himself.

He was sitting back, relaxing a bit and smoking his pipe away from the main group, when he heard Garavel mention when they should reach their destination. That roused a bit more excitement in him – it meant he was closer to earning his freedom, something he had always dreamed of. Now, what he would do once he got it, he didn’t really know (or think about) …

"In the name of Nethys, the most potent archmage, the all-knowing and all-seeing, I will be glad when this trip is over!" N'Djamena heartily agrees. "The jungles of Mwangi are infinitely preferable to this, but if the mother church in Osirion dictates that a mission is to be constructed in this drear waste, I submit my will to Nethys's holy design and obey."

He claps enthusiastically at Ayhishidaj's display. "Bravo! Well done, well done! I enjoyed it thoroughly." His eyes remain pointedly fixed away from the loathsome goblin servant.

"Markhet is almost done with the camels Larrs," the gnome says to her lion as she inspects the animals and tends to the sores and aches, "go watch the pretty dancer and Markhet will fetch your supper!"

The gnome is far to small to help unpack the camels, she even struggled lifting rocks for the fire pit, but the animals all seemed to love her. Camels can be stubborn at times but the beasts seemed to do whatever Markhet asked. Markhet happily fetches the remainder of the meat from the pack animal probably not noticing more then half of it missing.

Larrs on the other hand watches his tiny companion like a hawk and only moves when Markhet shoos him. He plods over to an unoccupied side of the camp and lays down. he cautiously watches the other party members and emits a low growl if anyone gets to close without Markhet in tow. Markhet brings the remainder of fresh meat over with the dried stuff and Larrs happily gobbles it up.

The night wears on, its cool, with little of the days heat staying past the fading sun. Most of you have seen your turn at watch. The place is oddly silent, but for the small sounds of the night. A hare moving along the scrub plains, the rustling of the wind, the call of the lone wild birds. Once thing you do notices is the long howl in the distance. It is faint but there. A few moments latter you hear it again, but even more faint as if it was farther away.

The next morning you again, make your way across the slow scrub-plains. The sun beating upon your skin, your cloths fill with sweat, your mouth dry from dust and heat. The sun makes the plains seem to almost shimmer like a dull sea, of mute greens and browns. The only thing on the horizon is the pale mountain growing ever steady as you march across the seemingly endless plains

Ayish again helps as much as she can with the setting of the new camp. She is also happy to sing and dance to entertain the others in the evening. The cool night air seems to bother the woman as little as the heat of the day.

With the next day, and the striking of the camp, Ayish is again skipping along in her billowing silks, happily sharing the water that resides within the barrel her donkey is carrying.

Xerzayas helps as well, or at least has Mamood help, though, in contrast with his sister, he is quiet and standoffish. In the evenings he plays a guitar and Mamood plays a flute while Ayishi dances and sings.

"What was that Markhet wonders?" the gnome says at the first howl, "a wolf?" The second howl has her standing scanning the horizon, "some kind of communication Markhet thinks."

Markhet enjoys the dancing. The tiny gnome was used to toiling away while her masters played. It was fun to be part of the extravagances for a change. The gnome did her best to clap with the rhythm of the dance. Her gnomish blood aided her in this endeavor for music flowed through her tiny body as sure as did the blood of mother nature herself did.

Markhet didn't care for the cold, bundling herself up in her blanket to shield herself from the cold during her turn at watch and cuddling up with Larrs when she sleeps. Markhet generally slept with Larrs, this wasn't an unusal situation, but Markhet wasn't used to being outside in the elements. The tiny gnome tucked herself under one of Larrs' paws and his head.

The next morning Markhet once again splashes about with her bucket and ladle. She and Larrs continue to hunt.

"Does anyone here know about animals? That howling disturbs me, but I have no idea what it is." N'Djamena looks worried as he fans himself with a religious tract.

"It is too distant for Markhet to identify," the gnome says, "but Markhet thinks it might be a wolf. There are other things that howl like that though Markhet notes, and not all of them animals."

Ayish walks along with the group listening intently to the group's conversations. At N'Djamena's comment of howling the young woman's eyes grow a little wider.

"Should we arm ourselves?" She asks aloud, "Is there risk of some wild beast attacking?" Her path begins to drift as her walking shifts to steer her journey more towards the company of Xerzayas where the man rides along upon one of the camels. She looks towards him, slightly nervous.

Tying her donkey's reigns into the saddle of the camel, she walks beside her mount's saddle and begins to sort through her equipment carried within the packs second barrel. Soon, she winds the long braided chords of a whip about her slim, tanned waist. Then seems to be lost in thought as she continues to look in on her belongings, this while keeping an eye upon the ground across which she walks. Leaving her donkey under her brothers care, she skips across the rough ground and comes to walk beside Marhket,

"Greetings," She bobs her head and bows in way of semi-formal greeting, "My name is Ayishidaj-bintel-Quivarashidj," She smiles shyly at Marhket, "So, truly, the thing that others heard howling last night may have been a wolf?" Ayish's voice holds a slight quaver within it and her eye's might be slightly wider than usual, even though the tanned woman walks beside a large feline that probably weighs more than she does.

The next day of travel, Vrealk's excitement at finally reaching their destination finally begins to catch up with him, as the oppressive heat begins to take its toll. He understood now what his gnome 'friend' was complaining about yesterday.

Vrealk was in a bit of a depressed mood, in any event. It appeared to him his original assumptions were wrong: the group as a whole really did like music, judging from the fire-lady's dance and the other man's flute-playing. It was obviously just Vrealk's music they didn't like. That saddened him, but by mid-morning, he had decided it didn't really matter; he liked it, and would continue to play softly when no one else was around.

The howling in the night hadn't really disturbed him much, as it had the others, but the talk of wolves perked his ears up. Now there was a fine creature! Not like those smelly, noisy dogs humans liked to keep. Not really thinking about what he was doing, he caught up to the gnome and the fire-lady (Markhet and Ayish) and blurted out, "Gnome-friend, you really think it was wolf? That good news. Me thought it could be gnoll or hyena, since we going to their land."

"Markhet only thinks it was a wolf," the gnome says to her concerned traveling companions, "Markhet has never heard a gnoll howl so she can't rule that out as a possibility. They were very far off though Markhet notes, and it would be unlikely that whatever it was would travel all the way out to see us. Also, Markhet speculates that if it were wolves or even hyenas, that they'd need to be very desperate indeed to approach a camp with a lion and humans in it."

"Markhet only thinks it was a wolf," the gnome says to her concerned traveling companions, "Markhet has never heard a gnoll howl so she can't rule that out as a possibility. They were very far off though Markhet notes, and it would be unlikely that whatever it was would travel all the way out to see us. Also, Markhet speculates that if it were wolves or even hyenas, that they'd need to be very desperate indeed to approach a camp with a lion and humans in it."

Vrealk comes closer to Larrs, hesitates just a moment, then pets the large cat. He looks at Markhet and gives a big, tooth-filled grin (that, despite its friendly intent, is still a bit disturbing coming from a goblin), and says, "Thanks, gnome-friend! Oh, and my name Vrealk!"

Larrs stands perfectly still as the goblin touches him but Veralk can't help but feel that if Markhet wasn't there this scenario would play out very differently.

"This one's name is Markhet," the gnome says, "she belongs to Garavel she thinks, the task master wasn't very clear explaining the situation, but he has explained that if she behaves herself Markhet may earn her freedom. Markhet isn't sure what she would do with such a strange and wonderful thing but she is pretty excited about the prospect. It is nice to meet you Vrealk Markhet declares."

Ayish allows the traveling momentum of the group to carry her away from the interaction of the Goblin and the Gnome. Soon she is again walking besides Xerzayas' camel. The woman is too polite, well mannered and skilled to stare at either of the other two, but her gaze does linger upon the Goblin.

the day is late, with the sun soon to disappear behind the large pale mountain looming before you like some great elemental lord overseeing his domain. Then suddenly as you top the next hill you see a large craggy tree, it's easy to see why it has been dubbed the Sultans claw. five large mostly leafless branches sprawl from the top, more like some bony talon of a long dead beast then a thing of living wood

A caravan of half a dozen wagons and a large tent cluster around the tree. Camels in a nearby fence prance in agitation as a cluster of goats and other livestock wonder around the wagons in confusion. About a dozen people seem to be chasing the live stock or running with pails toward the Sultan's claw were one of the wagons is on fire!

Lush flames engulf an elaborate wagon painted with moons and stars, great gout's of smoke bellow from the wagons open door. Inside colorfully painted harrow cards dance and spin in the wind that blows though the camp feeding the fire.

As you ride toward the camp the wind switches, sending cards scatted across the camp, a burning card fly's toward Ayishidaj. She only sees a painting of what looks to be a great wind cloud before it slams into her chest, bursting into harmless cinders

The tent's flap comes open and a regal woman who can only Almah steps into the fire-lit camp "Douse that flame!" She calls to men surrounding the burning wagon before turning toward you "Ah Garavel! And just a moment later then the nick of time as usual she looks past him at you "Find someway to help1' She barks, before running toward the burning wagons herself

As you scan the camp that has fallen to disarray you can see Almah, Garavel and four men in the distinctive red chitin-plate armor of the packmaster guard running between the burning wagon and an uncovered wagon 20 feet away.
Closer to the flames four burly mercenary's with mismatched weapons and armor struggle to pull a nearby enclosed wagon away from the flames
A bit farther away an elderly man kneels in attendance to what looks to be two badly burned people , cloths still smoking.
And all around the camp a collection of sheep, goats and pigs running a muck in the chaotic camp. A middle aged man and woman are trying there best to round up the animals but are failing

so your left wonder just how you will help
Ok folks just how will you help? Not everyone needs do the same thing, but you can

Anyone whoccan make a know arcana check to id the harrow card my do so as well

As you ride toward the camp the wind switches, sending cards scatted across the camp, a burning card fly's toward Ayishidaj. She only sees a painting of what looks to be a great wind cloud before it slams into her chest, bursting into harmless cinders

The tent's flap comes open and a regal woman who can only Almah steps into the fire-lit camp "Douse that flame!" She calls to men surrounding the burning wagon before turning toward you "Ah Garavel! And just a moment later then the nick of time as usual she looks past him at you "Find someway to help1' She barks, before running toward the burning wagons herself

As you scan the camp that has fallen to disarray you can see Almah, Garavel and four men in the distinctive red chitin-plate armor of the packmaster guard running between the burning wagon and an uncovered wagon 20 feet away.

Closer to the flames four burly mercenary's with mismatched weapons and armor struggle to pull a nearby enclosed wagon away from the flames
A bit farther away an elderly man kneels in attendance to what looks to be two badly burned people , cloths still smoking.
And all around the camp a collection of sheep, goats and pigs running a muck in the chaotic camp. A middle aged man and woman are trying there best to round up the animals but are failing.

Ayish is not fazed, nor possibly even notices the burning cinders that fly past her born by this ill change in the wind. She immediately runs towards the prone figures, stumbling to a halt as she kneels beside them also. For a moment she catches her breath after the race across the sands, then calming herself, she begins to hum a soft melody as she lays a hand upon one of the victims. Cure Light Wounds:1d8 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5

Seeing the older man is successful with one of the wounded, Ayish concentrates upon the form that is still prone before her. Cure Light Wounds:1d8 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7

The old man finished with his healing looks over and says "Nythys be praised." In a dry voice "Though I would lose that one. Are you a priest of the gods also lass? Ayish does little more than glance and offer a brief smile as she composes herself, rises and trots briskly now back to her donkey.

"Water! I have water here!" She cries as she desperately tries to bring the donkey closer to the people who can use the aid.Handle animal check:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14

"Come on, move for me, come closer." She croons as she pulls upon the reigns.

I am gonna count this as 3 rounds of actions from you, move+heal, heal+move, then handle animal

Ayish runs and kneels near a woman, she seems badly burned but the man is working on the other, chanting what seems to be a spell as magic flows from him into the burned man.

As her spell flows into the woman, wounds close and scab beneath her hands, but still the woman lays unmoving

You still wish to use the 2nd on the man, or her? Ok folks we are doing this by round just to be clear :)

Edit for the edit

As Ayish's healing magic flows into the woman, her eyes fly open and she rolls over coughing. The old man finished with his healing looks over and says"Nythys be praised." In a dry voice "Though I would lose that one. Are you a priest of the gods also lass?

The card was the cyclone, signifying a force that tears though whatever it meets at the behest of an intelligent being.It portends war arson and destructive plans

Celena goes over to help the wagon, the mercenaries give the small gnome an bewildering look, but with her help the wagon starts to roll away from the fire. With help from Mamoon it starts to gain ground and is soon away from the flames. The men look from the gnome and with some apprehension at the blue man before them

Xerzayas, runs over to join the bucket brigade passing pails of water from the open water wagon to the burning one

For just a brief moment, Vrealk is mesmerized by the flames; he watches them in wonder before snapping out of it. "Help! Yes, me help!" Vrealk rushes over to the bucket brigade, and begins helping lug pails of water to the fire (Str of 12, so shouldn't be an issue), despite the odd looks he's likely to get.

N'djamena calls upon Nythy's blessing to pour healing into the two wounded Ayish and the old man work on before heading toward the burning wagaon

As Vrealk reaches the bucket line, nothing happens at first till someone notices him with screams of "Goblins!" Half the line stops what they are doing to reach for weapons before Garavel barks out "it's with him and to get back to the important work"

On the other side of the camp Markhet manages to calm a few animals but still many run wild

Ok new round, The wagon is clear of the fire so Mamoon and celena are clear to do something else

As Vrealk reaches the bucket line, nothing happens at first till someone notices him with screams of "Goblins!" Half the line stops what they are doing to reach for weapons before Garavel barks out "it's with him and to get back to the important work"

A big part of me wants to have Vrealk shout out "Where?!" and start looking around for the goblins. :-)

N'djamena calls upon Nythy's blessing to pour healing into the two wounded Ayish and the old man work on before heading toward the burning wagaon

As Vrealk reaches the bucket line, nothing happens at first till someone notices him with screams of "Goblins!" Half the line stops what they are doing to reach for weapons before Garavel barks out "it's with him and to get back to the important work"

On the other side of the camp Markhet manages to calm a few animals but still many run wild

Ok new round, The wagon is clear of the fire so Mamoon and celena are clear to do something else

Assuming there are no more wagons in danger of going up in flames Celena will join the bucket line to help put out the fire doing her best to not show her distaste when passing a bucket to the Goblin.

With everyone else carrying water to the fire, and Markhet chasing and calming animals Ayish tries and coxes her donkey toward the fire with little luck, the stubborn beast having nothing to do with getting closer. She id forced to grab a bucket with the rest and soon the fire is out , leaving behind wet smoldering ruins. As if to mark the disaster, a charred bone is viable beneath the soot, cracked with charred flesh still sizzling fat from the heat.

The fire over most attend to other things leaving behind the grizzly seem.You Almah and Garavel and the red plated guards remain behind."Eloias wagon" She says talking to Garavel and seeming to pay you no mind as of yet "A pity I found his advise useful, So this is the help you have brought me Garavel' She says with a slight frown, as she looks over the group eyes lingering upon Vrealk. "Well they will do, since you were not here I want you to investigate this' She says hand waving toward the still smoldering wagon "At once Garavel." She says in a no nonsense tone as she disappears back into her tent.

Garavel starts back toward the wagons deep in thought and motions for you to fallow. He says nothing for a while and you stand waiting as the sun sinks below the pale mountain behind you Finally he speaks

"Eloias The princesses personal astrologer. He was a fortuneteller, from the distant land of the princesses ancestors, a place called Varisia. He called himself a Harrower and used cards of the same name." He says as he talks the wind starts to blow the charred cards around the camp as if by omen . "As you will be working for the princess this will be your test. I charge you with finding out what conspired here. Talk to people, search the ruins if you must, but before this night is though you will tell the princess what you think happened here."

Everyone may make a perception check

Anyone makeing a DC 15

Spoiler:

A metal bolt protrudes from the left side of Garavels head, it is mostly hidden by his keffiyeh[head covering] but you saw it as he spoke. A know local check can be made to ID it

Ayish rubs a soot stained hand across her forehead. Not being able to coax her donkey closer, she takes up a position on the bucket line closest to the fire. Seeming to brave the most fury of the flames to make up for her animals recalcitrance. With the fire out and the camp settling back down to normal, she joins the others as they gather with Garavel.

After the brief speech by the expedition's leader and Garavel's perfunctory instructions Ayish stands frowning at something, perhaps Garaval's words, as she looks about the camp though here gaze steadfast refuses to take in the chard hulk of the burnt wagon. She sags slightly leaning against Xerzayas, though when he goes to steady her she takes a deep breath and stands a little straighter giving him a warm smile.

"I'm all right. I just wish..." And her voice trails off as she thinks about all the things she might have done differently to help. With a nod and smile to Xerzaya, she turns and walks towards the two injured people and the man still tending them.

Coming to the old man and his charges she bows quickly and then kneels.

"I'm sorry for before, My name is Ayishidaj-bintel-Quivarashidj," She again bows formally with the introduction, "But Ayish will suffice," She smiles, "I have some calling to the arts but no formal knowledge of the healing arts. Is there some other way I can help? even a little?" She looks to the older healer with an honest and hopeful expression, even as she tugs at the now tattered and cinder marred silks of her dress.

Having his sister lean on him for support actually gives him bolsters his own reserves of strength. "You did well, Ayish. We will get through this together. It's just another step on our journey."
Xerxzayas goes to the ruins of the wagon and stands, looking them over before having Mamood gather bits and pieces that he thinks may be of interest.
Perception:
Xerzayas 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 1 = 11
Mamood 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24